The air behind the dune thickened, heavy with fear. Even the night wind, once cool against their skin, felt stifled, like it carried the whispers of something monstrous approaching.
Eric's voice cracked like dry wood, shrill with panic as he jabbed a trembling finger at the bloodied sand.
"What… what have you done, Big Bull!?"
The giant only stood there, chest rising and falling with slow, thunderous breaths, his fists still dripping with the remnants of what was once a man.
The Saintess stumbled back a step, her silken white robes quivering with her every movement, her silver lashes fluttering wildly as her eyes darted in every direction. Her breathing came quick, shallow, almost like a cornered bird.
Luca's jaw tensed until his teeth ached, his nails digging crescents into his palms. His voice was low, controlled, but laced with a chill that made the air feel sharper.
"But… who was the 'Lord' who guessed we were here?"
